


Suspicious package

by Born This Gay (Sinpie_Senpai)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Crack, Dirty Talk, I got paid in organs for this, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 09:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinpie_Senpai/pseuds/Born%20This%20Gay
Summary: "Man accused of shoplifting but suspicious bulge in his trousers was just his 10in penis."Porn ensured.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 549
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	Suspicious package

**Author's Note:**

> From actual news title. You can Google it.
> 
> I'd like to say no one asked for it but I wrote it anyway, but I can't. They did ask for it. 
> 
> I have no regrets.

Crowley doesn’t like Sartre, but he has to admit the man had a point. Hell _ is _ other people. Hell is all this fucking screaming children running around between shelves without giving a fuck about safety of themselves and other people. Hell is angry, long-suffering parents yelling across the aisle at said children to stop, which obviously doesn’t manage to stop them, at all. Hell is a group of teenagers chatting away, crowding up the whole space between the two aisles, making it impossible for anyone to walk through, let alone trying to pick things from those shelves. Everything is awful and lousy. Convenience stores are always the same on weekends. 

And he has to do his shopping on weekends.

_ I hate this place, _ he internally sighs. _ Too many people, not enough plants. The only good thing is…. _

The only good thing is currently rearranging the shelves of snack after the tornado of children has swept through and devastated it. Crowley discreetly steals glances at him while pretending to scrutinize the apple. 

Aziraphale looks the same as usual in his cream shirt and tartan apron, with a magical air of calmness and gentleness surrounding him. With the patience and attentiveness of a saint, he puts the products back into place one by one without so much as a huff of annoyance. Crowley watches, waiting for Aziraphale to be done and look up so that Crowley can pretend that he’s just in that exact spot, during that exact moment, entirely by accident. He loves the beaming smile Aziraphale always treats him with whenever the man spots him in the crowd.

Then Aziraphale bends over, ass up, fully on display, perfectly round and juicy buttcheeks bulging against the fabric of his pants to near bursting, and Crowley almost discoporates where he stands.

“Sir!” He is jerked back to reality by a stern voice from behind. Turning around, he realizes that it’s one of the store security staff. He's giving Crowley a cold, disapproving look. “Sir, may I have a moment of your time?”

Shit, did he see Crowley checking out Aziraphale’s ass? Is he going to be reported for sexual harassment?

“Please return what’s in your pocket, sir.”

What?

"Excuse me?" Crowley blinks at him in confusion.

"Our merchandises, sir. Please return them!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Sir, please don't make me resolve to drastic measures…" His face hardens. 

"I'm just trying to understand what's going on. I shop here every weekends. On what ground do you think I am-- and even if I were, _ where _ am I going to hide them?" Crowley gestures down to himself, in his thin T-shirt, loose blazer and can't-be-any-tighter skinny jeans. "There must have been a mistake."

"Sir-"

"Is there a problem?"

Crowley's startled and whirled around. While they were arguing, Aziraphale has approached them, concerns evident on his face. Oh no. No no no no.

"I caught him shoplifting, but he insists on denying it, manager." The security staff tells Aziraphale.

"You did _ not _ catch me shoplifting because I wasn't. You just walked up to me and accused me without any evidence. At all." Crowley corrects him indignantly. 

"Sandalphon?" Aziraphale raises a questioning eyebrow. "Mr. Crowley here has been one of our regular customers. Are you sure--"

"Oh, but I have evidence." Sandalphon says with a cocky glee, "Right here!" 

He points at Crowley. Both Aziraphale and Crowley looks down. 

"He's hiding them in there, I'm sure. How else--"

Crowley's blood rushes south helplessly because Aziraphale's staring at that exact place on his body, right there, eyes widens, mouth agape slightly. Crowley feels heat start rising on his cheeks. Of everything he owns, why does he have to wear such tight jeans today?

"Sandalphon!" Aziraphale says, calmly, despite the slight strain in his voice, "I'll deal with this. Mr. Crowley, please, come with me to my office."

*****

Aziraphale's office is far at the back of the store, a simple white door with "manager" sign at the front. Aziraphale opens the door for him with a polite smile, "After you."

A bookshelves lineup the left wall, full with neatly organized records and books. A couch sits against the wall on the right. On the desk at the back, there's a white, plasticky computer which looks like the last survivor from the time when computer had just been invented. A white mug with angel wings stands next to the keyboard. Vintage knick knacks litter here and there, like they were having a secret party before interrupted by the sudden appearance of two humans.

Swallowing dryly, Crowley steps in. Aziraphale closes the door behind them both.

"This is a terrible misunderstanding," Crowley says, "I didn't steal anything."

Aziraphale gingerly steps around Crowley. Crowley gives him the most sincere, imploring look that he can manage. He has been flirting with Aziraphale for _ months _ \- months of carefully orchestrated "accidental" meetings and seducing and torturous shopping trips on whatever ungodly hours Aziraphale happens to work the store - and all of that is about to go down the drain because---because apparently one incredibly stupid security guy thought that the bulge in Crowley's pants is something else instead of his fucking _ cock _ and Crowley can't figure out how to explain it to Aziraphale without embarrassing them both! 

Aziraphale stares at Crowley, then with bright blushed cheeks, glancing furtively at his crotch, where an unmistakable bulge is present, less visible than before because Crowley's half-hard erection - caused by the sight of Aziraphale bending over - has wilted after the whole incident. Blushing no less brighter, Crowley makes a desperate gesture at it, trying to convey the message of '_ it's just my dick in there can we drop this before we both die of humiliation please' _. He also silently prays to whatever omnipotent identities willing to listen for the ground to open up and swallow him whole immediately.

"Oh, um--" Aziraphale says, his voice strangely tight, "I'm sorry, but I can't tell if you are hiding our merchandise in your trousers or if you are just happy to see me."

Startled, Crowley's jaw falls on the floor. Did Aziraphale just--

_ Did he just blatantly proposition Crowley in his office? _

"You can't tell?" Crowley croaks, feelings faint. His throat is scorchingly dry all of sudden.

"It's--impossible to discern from the outside, I'm afraid." Aziraphale gives another convincingly coy glance down at the package in Crowley's pants. Instantly, Crowley's jeans feels entirely too tight on his swelling cock. He takes a sharp, short inhale of breath.

"A body check is necessary, then?" His voice is barely steady. 

Aziraphale's pupils are blown wide. His pink tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. "If you are willing, of course. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." The room is too stuffy and hot all of a sudden. 

"Yeah. No problem."

"Alright. I'll just--" Aziraphale carefully moves towards Crowley until they are facing each other. With the utmost gentleness, like he's afraid of accidentally frightening Crowley away, Aziraphale's fingers brush Crowley's belt. Crowley's breath hitches.

Lifting his face up, Aziraphale stares into Crowley's eyes, whispering, "Alright?"

Aziraphale's body is overwhelmingly close, almost touching his; Crowley can feel his warm, moist breath on his lips. Can't resist, he leans down, placing a tentative kiss on Aziraphale's mouth. Just a shy brush of lips, and yet, a wet gasp escapes Aziraphale as his whole body _ shudders. _ Crowley's cock throbs in its confinement at how incredibly hot it is.

"Carry on," Crowley pants softly into Aziraphale's parted lips, "I can't be more eager to prove my innocence, Mr. Fell."

"Yes, of course." Aziraphale's gaze drop down to where his hands are still lingering on Crowley's belt, "Allow me…"

Slowly, Aziraphale unfastens Crowley's snake belt buckles. His button. Crowley stops breathing as the zipper slides down, revealing the black brief underneath. 

"Good Lord…" Aziraphale murmurs, eyes wide, transfixed. He seems to be unable to look away from the solid shape of Crowley's bludgeoning erection, prominent under the thin fabric. Crowley knows that he's _ hung _ \- it's just a fact. His cock is 10 inch long, and even more impressive when it's hard - arranging it to fit his tight jeans has become an art that Crowley mastered over the years. He has intimidated his partner with its size before. However, Aziraphale looks anything but intimidated. Crowley sucks in a harsh, excited breath at the expression on his face.

He looks positively _ hunger _ for it.

"I understand that you would want to- ah- _ inspect _ it more directly, wouldn't you?" Crowley suggests breathlessly, "Can't be sure when it's under the clothes like that. Could be anything."

"Yes." The breathy sound is close to that of a moan - hot and needy, like something straight out of Crowley's filthiest fantasy. It shoots a spike of arousal straight down his groin.

"It'll be easier if you're on eye level with it." Crowley licks his lips, "Get on your knees." 

Aziraphale doesn't even put up a coy farce anymore. He swiftly drops down on his knees in front of Crowley with the devotion of one kneeling in front of God. With trembling fingers, he lowers the waistband of Crowley's brief.

"Oh dear…" Aziraphale can't help but shiver at the sight, a wave of desire scorching his guts. Crowley is rock hard already, flushed and swollen, a drop of pre-come glistening lusciously at the slit, making Aziraphale's mouth water. 

With how long they have been dancing around each other, he would be lying if he said he hadn't dreamed about this. He has always found Crowley irresistibly handsome and attractive, and the impressive size of his manhood has been the cherry on top (yes, Aziraphale did look. A lot. It's hard not to with how tight Crowley's clothes are). So many nights he has fantasizing about it, desperately fucking himself on his fingers or his largest dildo, wishing it was Crowley's cock in him, filling him to the limits, to bursting, burying in him so deep he could feel every inch of it embedded inside his belly. To have his treat barely _ inches _ from his lips like this, proudly presented for him - never has Aziraphale seen something so gorgeously debauched and sinfully delicious. Good thing he's already on his knees, or he would have collapsed from elation.

To start, he wraps his hands around it first. It's big, bigger than his biggest toy, and gloriously hot and heavy and eagerly pulsing between his fingers. _ God _ , it feels as good in his hands as it looks… He wonders if it will feel even better in his mouth. He wants to swallow it up right away, stuffing it down his throat, choking himself on it, but it might not feel as good for Crowley as it will for Aziraphale. Stroking and squeezing gently, he nuzzles at Crowley's erection, burying his nose into his groin. The heavy scent of Crowley _ there _ \- the heady combination of sweat and musk and unmistakably _ Crowley _ \- makes Aziraphale's head spin. He drags his tongue up the throbbing vein underneath before placing a kiss under the crown of Crowley's cock. Crowley hisses above him as Aziraphale wraps his lips around the tip, moaning at the briny taste of Crowley on his tongue. Finally._ Finally. _

Crowley's knees almost buckle when that wet, sinful mouth engulfing him, Aziraphale's silky tongue swirling around his slit, lapping up every bit of moisture there. He goes slowly, driving Crowley mad with the sweet ministrations of his hands and mouth. The gentle suction of his lips. The wet glide of his tongue. The subtle graze of teeth. _ Tease._

Sliding his hand into Aziraphale's hair, Crowley tugs at his soft curls, urging him on. Humming in agreement, Aziraphale takes the tip into his mouth again, then further still, all the way to the back of his throat, as far as he can without gagging. Crowley lets out a string of curses that Aziraphale would definitely have disapproved under other circumstances where he's not so helplessly turned on with a mouth full of cock. For a moment, Aziraphale just lets it rest there, reveling in the way it throbs on his tongue, how it stretches his mouth wide enough to ache. He feels so good, so _ full, _ a fullness that is almost too much and yet still make him greedy for more. His own erection jerks in sympathy, his hole clenching around nothing, the yearning emptiness inside him _ growls _. He wants…oh he wants…

Can't help it, Aziraphale shuffles forward, pressing his crotch against Crowley's leg, desperately seeking the friction he craves. _ God_. Crowley can still feel how hot and hard Aziraphale is through the fabric of his jeans, rutting against Crowley’s leg like a bitch in heat. All of this just from sucking his cock! There’s nothing Crowley wants more than to just throw Aziraphale over his desk and take him right here, right now, ruining him mercilessly and completely until he’s nothing but a crying, wrecked mess, writhing on Crowley’s dick in blissful ecstasy. He shifts his leg forward, giving Aziraphale more to grind into, and Aziraphale groans appreciatively, the vibration from his throat sending a rush of pleasure pooling in Crowley’s abdomen. Slowly, Aziraphale pulls off his dick until only the head is enclosed by the tight, wet heat of his lips, before sinking down again, sucking and working Crowley’s shaft like a starving man before the most decadent feast he’s ever had. 

Crowley just watches, helplessly bewitched by the way glistening streams of saliva starting to run down Aziraphale’s chin, how Aziraphale’s mouth stretching obscenely wide around him, wanton and tight and perfect. He can’t tear his eyes away from the erratic movement of Aziraphale’s hips, his ruddy cheeks, his muffled moans, the crease between his eyebrows as he loses himself in pleasure - it’s unbearably filthy, a startling contrast with the usual strait-laced way he presents himself. Crowley doesn’t think anything, can _ not _ think anything at all, because it’s _ him _ who is making Aziraphale like _ this. _

“God, you are so fucking gorgeous.” Crowley pants, tightening his fingers in Aziraphale’s soft curls, keeping his head steady. His voice rough with sex. “So good, so perfect, like you are made jussst to suck my cock-- Az- _ angel…, yessss, _like that.”

Aziraphale whimpers at his words. Crowley can feel the way his dick twitch where it’s pressed hard against Crowley’s leg. “Oooh, you love it, don’t you? Love having my cock in your mouth, love gagging on it, you little cock ssslut. I bet you start drooling just thinking about my cock, thinking about how it feels to have it inside of you.”

Aziraphale whines helplessly now, his eyelids flutter closed as a shudder of pleasure quakes through him. His movements around Crowley’s cock start to lose their rhythm; the thrusts of his hips becomes more desperate. It’s so good, too good. Gritting his teeth, Crowley knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m-I’m close...” Moans Crowley. Aziraphale hums, working his dick harder; one hand wrapping around the base where his mouth can’t reach and the other cups Crowley’s balls, fondling and kneading them. “So good, angel, _ oh-- _Gonna cum inside your fucking--perfect, beautiful, greedy mouth. You will drink it all, wouldn’t you, like the good pretty little slut that you are?”

Aziraphale _ keens_, low and guttural around Crowley’s cock, the sound shocks through Crowley’s spine like electricity and he’s coming, gushing spurt after spurt of semen down Aziraphale’s throat. It’s thick and hot and _ god_, there’s so much; its sweet, salty taste blooming on his tongue. Mewling, Aziraphale swallows happily, coaxing out the last drop until Crowley pulls him off, and Aziraphale reluctantly releases his cock with a lewd pop. Sitting back on his heels, Aziraphale feels pleasantly dazed as Crowley gazes down at him with half-lidded eyes. His fingers gently pry at Aziraphale’s lips, and he obediently opens his mouth, making sure Crowley can see that it’s empty.

“Oh bloody hell,” Crowley croaks, with feelings. Before Aziraphale knows it, Crowley is already down on his knees, pulling Aziraphale’s swollen cock out of his pants and it merely takes several quick strokes to bring him over the edge. He's so beautiful in the throes of passion - hair dishevelled, eyes clenched shut, cheeks flushed, mouth agape with a long, wet, euphoric moan - Crowley just can't not kiss him as warm wetness spilling over his hand. Basking in the afterglow, they kiss languidly until Aziraphale gets his breath back. With great regret, he pulls away to find the tissue box. They clean each other up and right their clothes before Crowley sits down on the couch, crossing his legs. He looks up at Aziraphale expectedly. 

"I trust that it was to your satisfaction?"

"Of course, Mr.Crowley," Crowley is pleased to note that he's still more than a little flushed, "I can't possibly tell you how grateful I am for your great understanding and pleasant cooperation. I apologise for any mistakes on our part or any inconveniences that we might have caused you."

Crowley smiles wickedly. "You know, Mr. Fell, I think apologies aren't nearly enough to make it up to me. I might even sue this store." 

"Oh?" Confused, Aziraphale swallows anxiously. Crowley simply gives him a heated, meaningful look over the realm of his sunglasses before understanding dawns on his face. "Perhaps you would care to reconsider? I believe I can offer you some-- _ compensations _ for all the trouble we have caused, Mr. Crowley." 

"Oh, I don't know." Grinning, Crowley licks his lips. "Depending on your offer, this might just take _ all _ night, Mr. Fell. I do hope you're prepared, because I'm not easily satisfied, _ angel._"

"Then I think the situation requires a very, _ very _ lengthy private discussion, my dear." There's a mischievous twinkle in Aziraphale's eyes as he smiles, full of untold promises, "My place or yours?"


End file.
